


a little selfish

by jlmrogers



Category: Bon Appétit Test Kitchen RPF, Chef RPF
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 11:41:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20488316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jlmrogers/pseuds/jlmrogers
Summary: Normally it was flour covering everything and aprons and messy buns, Andy’s ripped t-shirts. But not tonight. The second she walked in she saw suits, dresses, her eyes falling on Andy dressed to the nines (of COURSE), Molly in a modest navy dress and tights, Chris looking so put together with a perfect pop of color in his handkerchief, but her eyes were searching for something else. Someone, else.





	a little selfish

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this at 2 am so I apologize if it’s a mess, but I needed to get it out. Standard RPF rules apply here, I feel guilty enough as it is and I’m new to this world, so let’s all be cool. I hope someone out there enjoys this.

It was dumb. The whole thing. Why did the magazine need to have a formal dinner at all, Claire thought to herself, as she brushed her hands down the front of the dress she was basically being forced into, self conscious of having to look nice in front of her coworkers and friends. Normally it was flour covering everything, aprons and messy buns, Andy’s ripped t-shirts. But not tonight. The second she walked in she saw a sea of suits and dresses, her eyes falling on Andy dressed to the nines (of COURSE), Molly in a modest navy dress and tights, Chris looking so put together with a perfect pop of color in his handkerchief, but her eyes were searching for something else. Someone, else. 

He’s easy to spot. Generally. The loudest person in the room. Tallest, too, and of course in his element even now without his goobalini, his curly hair put together with some sort of pomade, if she had to make a formulated hypothesis, put her Harvard degree to work to assess how he had gotten it to look so nice and yet like he hadn’t tried at all. In the best way. He was wearing a suit jacket and a button up underneath, but the first button was undone, and her eyes lingered a little longer than they should have there, watching him talk easily and smiling brightly with the lucky people who had his attention. 

Of course it wasn’t stupid, all of this. They deserved it. Claire knew that. They had worked hard this part year and their channel had skyrocketed. They had fans, real fans, people were cooking recipes they made, she made, and they loved watching the shenanigans that had come from their crazy silly workplace. It was nuts, she still couldn’t really believe it, but looking around she didn’t really want to be anywhere else. She loved this group of people, and how far they had come. She was in the right place. 

She grabbed a flute of champagne, fully planning on taking advantage of everything this party had to offer tonight, making her way over to Carla but seeing a large mass suddenly block her way, looking up to see Brad smiling down at her. 

“Half-sour! You made it! look at that, and only thirty minutes late, pretty good, not too shabby. I honestly was banking of forty, so I guess you proved me wrong.” She saw his eyes look her over, and she suddenly felt self conscious about the dress choice she had gone with. She had been texting with Christina and Molly about what they would be wearing tonight, and they had somehow convinced Claire to go with a deep purple dress, stopping just above her knees with a scalloped neckline. Her shoulders were slightly exposed and it was more skin than she was used to showing around here (except for the time their A/C unit decided to give out on them on one of the hottest weeks in New York, and everyone had resorted to tank tops and dresses that week, and even the occasional shorts. It had been a long week.) He cleared his throat, his eyes looking back at her face and cheersing her with his drink. “You look good, Claire.”

It was such a genuine compliment and it took her by surprise, like it always did when he complimented her about something, which was usually her cooking and what followed was usually what she could do to make it better, but this was different. This was her appearance, and even more, it was personal. He had even used her name and not some silly nickname. She did love those, but she liked the way her name sounded from his lips much better. 

“Thanks, Brad. You look nice yourself. I always forget how curly your hair is,” she muses aloud, her eyes on his perfectly messy yet put together hair, taking a long sip of her champagne as he smiled sheepishly down at her and brushed it off, taking a big sip of whatever it was he was drinking. They shared a smile before drifting off, mingling with everyone else from the office, everyone noting how weird it was to see people in normal clothes for once, and looking their best, even weirder, enjoying the food that none of them had made (thank god), enjoying the catered appetizers and charcuterie boards. 

It was nice, being able to enjoy how well their channel was doing, they deserved it, and all night people were telling Claire just how much SHE deserved it. She had helped skyrocket their channel, from her break downs and perfect recreations of everyone’s favorite snack. She let it all roll off her, rolling her eyes and shaking her head at all the praise she would receive no matter what group she drifted to, finishing a flute and reaching for another, never quite sure what to do with so much praise from people she admired just as much. She knew she deserved some of it, she worked her ass off and stayed later than anyone in that kitchen most days, but she didn’t want the limelight, and it got a little overwhelming, especially when she really only liked it when it came from certain people. It meant a lot from Adam when he would indulge in her snacks, and always from Chris, her favorite. Tonight she wanted it from someone else. Specifically. She wanted it from Brad. She always did, and she could get it at any time, she knew that. He was always there to send a compliment her way, make her laugh when she needed it most, stop her from having a total meltdown when she was seconds from getting in the elevator and never looking back. But this was their night. Her night. And she wanted what she wanted. And she wanted Brad’s attention. 

It was hard watching him talk to other people when she herself was engulfed in constant conversations, and her eyes kept drifting to him, enjoying watching his animated face and hands constantly moving, threatening to spill his drink everywhere and yet it never did, didn’t spill a drop. She grabbed another flute, her third or fourth she couldn’t remember anymore, laughing at something Andy said and her eyes drifting over to Brad, the dozenth time in the past twenty minutes, but this time finding that he was already looking at her, biting her lip and turning away slowly, taking another sip for confidence and taking that as some sort of sign. 

“I need some air... so hot in here,” she offered to the group, fanning herself for some extra emphasis, them nodding back at her in agreement but staying put. She tossed a quick look over her shoulder before walking away, opening the door and turning a corner, happy for a quieter moment, the music blasting in the room now just a muffled thump of a beat, and she could live with that. 

“Escapin’ already? What about all those Harvard parties, Saffitz? Cant hang anymore?” Brad was grinning his charming smile at her as he approached, and maybe it was the champagne talking but she was never happier for a sight right now. She wanted his attention. She always did, but tonight especially, she could admit that she wanted it. Needed it. 

She could only laugh, looking down, “uh, yeah. No. There was no Harvard parties for me. Come on, Brad. Some of us had to stay in and study. Or more realistically, be locked away in the kitchen all night. Not much different than now, actually,” she laughed again, looking up at him. It was still catching her off guard, the hatless head and shirt open, and she took note that somehow another button had come undone and some chest hair was poking through, her eyes lingering and realizing she had been staring, her eyes jolting up to his, guilty and her face flushing, meeting his eyes and seeing his raised eyebrow and amused smirk, wanting to both slap and kiss it off his face. 

He put his dark caramel colored drink down, holding his hand out to her. “Let’s dance.”

She froze for a second, not sure what to say, deciding to cross her arms and her turn to raise her eyebrow at him. “I’m sorry...”

“Nothin to be sorry about, Claire. Come on. It’s a party, for gosh sakes. People dance. I know you didn’t go to those Haaaavad parties,” she laughs at his terrible accent, basically giving in the second her flute hit the table behind her. He was in front of her now, waiting. “But that’s what people do when there’s music. Come on.” 

He takes her wrist gently, pulling her with him as he danced along to the pumping top 40 that they could hear, mostly trying to get her to loosen up and laugh, which it did, he always got her to do both of those things, laughing harder as he twirled her and she felt herself loosen up more, still not fully confident and yet somehow completely comfortable, a familiar feeling she had when she was around Brad and his two-thirds full view of life, shimmying and spinning and running her hand down her arm as she moved along with the music, her hips having a life of their own after that champagne. She felt Brad’s large and warm hand grab her arm, pulling her gently into him, her back flush against his chest, moving against her and she didn’t bother or really want to question it, pressing back against him as she writhed along to the song, feeling him move behind her, tossing her head back so it was against his chest, his hand snaking down to rest along her hip, pulling her ass back against him, the fabric of her dress bunching in his hand, gaining some confidence herself, her hand reaching up to rest at the back of his neck, her mind trying to remember the last time she had let herself feel this free, do something she wanted to do without any consequences, and she couldn’t even think of a time. She also couldn’t recall a time she had basically grinded herself against someone, let alone a coworker. A one-off time on her twenty first birthday vaguely came to mind, but this was different. This was Brad, her closest friend here, and whatever else he had become over these past few months, but tonight she was going to be selfish. She was going to do exactly what she wanted. She could feel his hands tightening around her waist, gripping them as they moved to their own beat, swallowing and deciding to look up at him, her hand tightening on the back of his neck, seeing him looking back at her, spinning in his arms faster than she thought she could ever move, their lips crashing down on each other so fast, she wasn’t even sure who had moved first. He cupped her face and she wrapped both arms around his neck, needing him to lean down more because Jesus he was tall but she needed him close, closer. She felt her back hit something and him pressed needily against her, kissing her fiercely, his hand sliding from her cheek down the side of her body, letting a moan escape her lips, his large and steady hands lifting her onto the surface so she was sitting, pushing her legs open so he could fit perfectly between them, her tongue sliding against his and tasting whatever dark liquor he had been drinking, usually hating anything that resembled that color of alcohol but finding herself wanting more, her hands sliding down to that open patch of skin she had been eyeing, her fingers gently touching his chest and feeling it for herself, finally, his calloused hands making their way up her thighs as they pushed her dress up ever closer to her hips. 

Usually they couldn’t stop talking but this had silenced them both, all sighs and soft moans and hands, and she couldn’t count the amount of times he had breathed her name by now, like he was finding it hard to believe that it was her, really her, that was here with him like this. She almost couldn’t believe it herself. 

She let her eyes fall shut when his lips moved to her neck, hot and wet as his beard brushed her pale, sensitive skin, knowing she would still feel it the next morning, her hands pulling his tucked shirt out, liking it better that way, the brad that she saw all the time, untucked and not stuffy, her soft hands craving more of his skin, biting her lip to stop a moan as he kissed along her shoulder, biting a spot she liked. 

“Claire.. oh Claire...”

She felt her body fire at about a thousand degrees, knowing this either had to stop or they had to make this quick and quiet. She really wasn’t liking the sound of the first option, especially when she felt his fingers toying with the top of her underwear, her hands pushing gently on his chest to get his attention, her mind suddenly racing with a million ideas and thoughts. 

“Brad.. god Brad what if someone... someone sees we’re both missing... Hunzi.. Chris... someone will notice and they’ll come looking for us... they’ll put two and two together..”

She can feel herself spiraling, needing Brad to either convince her fully or agree with her and put a stop to this for them both. She wasn’t sure which one she wanted. Everything was hazy. 

He pulls back and he’s looking at her, his eyes dark with something she never seen from him before, but she could get used to it, their lips a few inches apart and chests both moving erratically, his lips suddenly brushing her ear and she could practically hear the stupid cocky grin on his face as she spoke, husky and feeling it pool low in her stomach. 

“What’s wrong, Claire? Don’t want to get caught? Afraid you’re going to be too loud.. cause I’m really about ready to rock your world here on this damn table.... so. Tell me to stop and we’ll stop.”

He’s making her pick. God damn it of course he is. He pulls back and looks down at her, and she looks and realizes her legs were locked around him this whole time, taking in his now just plain messy, messy hair, finding it hard to argue with him when he looked like this, his rough hands still under her dress, thumbs drawing circles into her skin, and remembering what she had said. This was their night. Her night. It was her pick. 

She was going to get what she wanted.


End file.
